


Siblings in Spirit (However Far Away)

by wickedlupin



Category: Tales of Xillia
Genre: Character Study, Family, Found Family, Gen, Loss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-05
Updated: 2020-09-05
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:40:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26302840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wickedlupin/pseuds/wickedlupin
Summary: Milla wasn’t as cold as she had been when they were growing up—but she wasstillsuper cool.{Xillia Week Day 5: Family}
Relationships: Ivar & Jude Mathis, Ivar & Milla Maxwell
Comments: 7
Kudos: 7
Collections: Tales of Xillia Week





	Siblings in Spirit (However Far Away)

The vines caught between his fingers as he climbed higher up the Hallowmont. The huge sword strapped to his hip made it difficult to climb, weighing him down on one side. It was almost twice as big as he was, which Ivar thought was _very_ impressive. If he could wield an adult’s sword, that meant he was as strong as an adult! And that meant he could beat the monster on the Hallowmont, easy. Then Lady Milla would think he was _super_ reliable.

He tossed himself up onto the next cliff side, struggling for a moment to get his leg up over the side. His sword almost made him lose his balance, but not _quite._ He hopped up again and put his hands on his hips.

“Look out, monster!” he shouted, to hype himself up, and ran forward again.

Ivar had overheard the village chief talking about a monster on the Hallowmont; he seemed pretty worried about it. It was starting to come down at night to kill their livestock, but apparently this thing was _really_ big, so no one wanted to go up and take care of it themselves.

Ivar wanted to make Lady Milla proud. She was only nine, a year older than he was, but she was so mature. She was cold, measured, and _super cool._ Ivar felt like she could do anything. Milla wouldn’t have been scared to climb the Hallowmont and face off with whatever was up there, so this was a challenge he just _had_ to take.

But really, first and foremost, this was a personal quest. One of his best friends had gone missing.

Harry was the fattest, laziest, most wonderful rappig Ivar knew. There was no way he could defend himself against a big scary monster. He was probably so scared, squealing, helpless—

Ivar would bring Harry home, safe, and kill the monster himself. It was his duty to the village, after all!

...But the monster was a lot bigger than Ivar had anticipated.

Still, that would be no problem for him! He was Lady Milla’s strong and dutiful handmaid, he could take it! He unsheathed his huge sword, almost toppling forward with the weight of it, and ran at the monster as it reared up, bared its fangs—

_“Elemental Mastery!”_

Bright, colored light enveloped Ivar, spinning around him. It was warm, and it sort of tickled his arms and his face, but once it was past him, it shot itself at the monster with a power he had never seen.

The monster crumpled. Ivar’s jaw dropped.

“...Lady Milla!”

The nine-year-old embodiment of Lord Maxwell stood behind him, hand on her hip. Excitement and joy rose in Ivar’s chest at the sight of her, and he launched himself at the ground, curling up on his knees in the most polite bow he could manage.

Being Lady Milla’s handmaid was the _greatest_ honor. That’s what the village chief said. Ivar was born with that honor, so he’d always been by Lady Milla’s side, and he always would be. At the strong, grown-up age of eight, he had to agree that it was the _coolest_ title a man could possibly have.

“What are you doing out here, Ivar?”

Ivar peeked up at her, and saw the multi-colored balls of light return, hovering around her. He knew at once what they were— _the Four._ He’d studied them, he always knew that Lady Milla harnessed their power, but he’d never seen them in action. They took down that monster like it was _nothing._ That was _awesome._

“I came looking for Harry!” Ivar piped up, sitting up on his knees again. “He went missing yesterday! I thought maybe he’d be up here with the monster, but… I don’t see him.”

“If this monster took a rappig, then the rappig is dead,” Milla told him bluntly. Ivar’s heart sank.

She was right, of course. Ivar wouldn’t argue with her, but it still stung. Harry was a _good_ rappig. He wasn’t able to save him, and now Lady Milla wasn’t praising him at all. Huge, heavy tears rose up in his eyes.

“Come, Ivar.” Milla's voice was as measured as ever. She turned to travel back down the Hallowmont.

Ivar stayed behind just long enough to swing a good kick at the monster’s corpse, with a loud sniffle. He picked up his huge sword from where he had dropped it, and returned it to his sheath, running a little to catch up to where Milla walked.

“There is little point in crying,” she told him, and Ivar furiously wiped his eyes.

“I know,” he said wetly.

“This is just the way things are. Animals are consumed by other animals. We should be grateful that the monster didn’t take any human lives.”

“I know,” Ivar said again.

An orange ball of light hung behind and hovered near Ivar’s shoulder. Warmth radiated from it, like it was quietly trying to comfort him. Ivar watched it, and slowly his tears stopped rolling.

“These are… the Four, right?” Ivar asked. Milla didn’t turn to acknowledge him, but answered his question anyway.

“They are.”

Ivar examined the ball of light beside him more closely, and could almost make out a gently smiling face. He wiped his remaining tears and smiled back. “...Thanks, Gnome.”

He ran to catch up with Milla again, enthusiasm quickly returning. “You were awesome back there, Lady Milla! I have to get a lot stronger… I’ll get _really_ strong, so I can protect you!”

“Of course, Ivar. You’re only eight years old. It’s only natural that you’re weak right now.” Her words seemed cold and crushing, but she went on: “You’ll keep getting stronger. I have full faith in you as my handmaid.”

  


* * *

  


Ivar woke in a comfortable haze, beneath the domed ceiling he grew up under. He wasn’t quite sure how he could feel so full and empty at the same time.

Milla was gone, again. He’d been through this grief before—of course, it was better than when he had thought she was _dead._ She was fulfilling her duty now, which meant Ivar had fulfilled his duty to her. It was time to find a new purpose—but even if it wasn’t his purpose to serve Maxwell anymore, it still hurt that he couldn’t be by her side.

Ivar sat up and pulled out his GHS before he really registered what he was doing. The line rang in his ear, and clicked slightly as the other end picked up.

“Ivar?”

“Hey, Jude, how’s it hangin’?”

There was a brief silence from the other end. C’mon, get with it, Jude.

“Oh, uh, you know. What’s up with you, Ivar?”

Ivar sat up in bed, crossing his legs in almost a defensive way, as though Jude could see the gesture. “What, I need a reason to call?!”

Another silence followed. “...Did you just call to… _chat?”_

Ivar felt his face heat up. “I just wanted to check up on you! I know you must be taking it pretty hard, since Milla left again. You’re not crying like a baby, are you?!”

A quiet sigh echoed through the line. Something about it was familiar, like an old blanket placed over his shoulders.

“Are _you_ doing alright, Ivar?”

“Of—of course I am!” How dare Jude imply _he_ was crying like a baby!

“You know… it _is_ difficult, I won’t pretend it’s not. I miss her all the time. I can only imagine what it must be like for you.”

“Th-that’s right! Because Milla and I grew up together! We were… _family!_ That’s more than _you_ had with her, phony!”

Another sigh. Ivar could almost see Jude shaking his head. “I thought we were past the ‘phony’ stuff.”

“What made you think that?!”

“No, nevermind.”

Ivar’s jealousy toward Jude _had_ eased somewhat, since the first time Milla left them. Mostly he was upset Jude had been with her when she departed—Ivar never got to say goodbye. It felt a little like he’d been cast aside, like after his whole life striving to be useful to Lady Milla, she had deemed him unworthy to stay beside her.

His gig with the Chimeriad didn’t work out, so he got himself hired at Spirius instead. He just wanted to be useful to _someone._ But he got canned at Spirius, too.

This time though, before Milla departed for the spirit realm, it felt like he had a little more closure. Milla wasn’t as cold as she had been when they were growing up—but she was _still_ super cool. And she had asked Ivar to look after their home, because she trusted him. Because she knew she could rely on him. Because they were family.

“...Anyway, Ivar,” Jude continued after a brief pause fell between them. “You still _are_ family. You can’t talk to her, and that’s hard, trust me I… get it. But I feel Milla around all the time, watching me create my own purpose and make the changes I want to see. If she’s watching me, I _know_ she’s watching you, too. She’s waiting to see what you’ll do, because we all know it’ll be something big.”

Ivar swallowed around the lump forming in his throat. “You’ll see me do something great, just watch.”

“I know, Ivar. I promise, I’ll be watching, just like Milla is.”

He rubbed his forearm over his eyes. “Yeah, well, you _better._ Cause whatever I do, it’ll be _awesome.”_

When Ivar hung up, he hated to admit it, but he felt better. Jude wasn’t _so_ bad—he understood what Ivar was going through better than anyone, he supposed. Even though he always hated that before, even though it still bothered him a _little_ … it was nice to have some solidarity, anyway.

Jude was strong, even though he _seemed_ like a weakling. That must have been what Milla saw in him. Ivar had always striven to be as mature as Milla was, just as strong, even though it was impossible— _no one_ can be as strong as the Great Spirit Maxwell. But if he was mature enough now to get along with Jude… maybe that was a step in the right direction.

He jumped out of bed, landing firmly on his feet, and took a deep breath, hands on his hips. It was time to go visit his favorite rappigs—and after that, he’d keep striving to be someone Milla could be proud of.


End file.
